Why?
by GirlWhoLovesFanfiction
Summary: There were three moments in Alucard's life that he could have died. Three instances where he could have succumbed to his fate. After delving into why he kept going after being defeated, both his fledgling and master are shocked to hear his answer.
1. The First Death

**I've decided to write a few short stories over the three deaths that Alucard suffered in his unnatural life. Why? Because I've always loved thinking about this. So this is just the first chapter of about three to four chapters' worth of a short story. Enjoy!**

 _I will not die here_.

The king stepped forth slowly, pain shooting up through his bare heels as he dug them with a quiet crunch through the battle-scorched dirt. The body of his general lay in his path, and not having the strength to step over the body, he tumbled to the ground, the dirt scraping his bleeding chest. "Hareket!" screamed the soldier ahead of him, yanking on a rusted chain that jerked him forward with a loud _clack_. The wood around his head dragged him forward, leaving a red ring around his wrists and neck as his body was forcibly dragged across the ground. With empty eyes, the king kneeled and rose to his feet and did not meet the soldier in the eyes as he was dragged forward once again.

 _I refuse_.

 ** _But this is your time, my king. It's time you received your punishment. It's time we met face to face._**

 _No._

 ** _No? Look before you._**

Hollow blue eyes spared a glance towards a clearing within the battlefield. A large, overweight man stood there with a cloak covering his head, masking the expression of his eyes. He found it funny that his executioner would be Death himself.

 ** _You've lost. It's time to give in. There's no saving your fate now, my dear crusader._**

Knees hit dirt again, though this time it was obvious that he was not supposed to stand up after that. The blade of the knife raised by the meaty hand of Death glinted in the rising sun.

 _Time to give in?_

Liquid fire began seeping into the king's eyes as he gazed out over the battlefield. Ire rose within his chest as his gut clenched upon the sight of his dismembered men. A boot hit his back and planted there as he lay sprawled on the ground. The knife rose above Death's head and his limbs trembled in anticipation. With the last strength he could muster, the king crawled three inches forward and extended his neck, a gasp rising from his throat as he leaned in towards the blood of one of his men. The warm, sticky liquid coated his gullet with warmth and momentarily appeased his insatiable thirst.

 _This is only the beginning. I have made my choice._

Dark laughter echoed only in his ears. **_Good. I knew you wouldn't disappoint._**

The blade swung down and severed his head in one clean chop, and the king's head rolled away from Death's boots.

But he was far from dead. Oh no, he was still so very thirsty.

The silver cross strung about the headless body had shattered, but not by the means of the blade that had swung down upon his neck. A cheer rang about the gathered crowd as all whooped in victory.

"Kral öldü! Kral öldü!" the men of the battlefield bleated. The executioner grabbed the king's hair roughly and held it high above his head, exposing the mask of the murderer for the world to see. As everyone's attention was fixated on the head, no one paid any mind to the body. That was until a low growling interrupted their jubilation.

Dead silence entered the open field as the body of the headless stricken king rose above the ashes. Clouds accumulated over their heads and the sunlight was suddenly blocked by a veil of darkness. The temperature seemed to drop, and chills wracked the seasoned warriors' spines. The headless corpse, which had previously been still as a statue, suddenly seemed to bubble under the skin. The blood that leaked from the gaping hole suddenly turned black as night, and all watched in terror as a new head began to form upon the lifeless husk's figure.

The king looked different from the last time the crowd saw him. Gone were the sober blue eyes, which had been replaced with two twin droplets of poisonous blood. The crimson irises bored into the soldiers with a rage like no other. The mouth, which had previously been clamped into a firm line of resignation, had spread into a grin; a wide and terrible grin that nearly stretched to his cheekbones, exposing fangs of monstrous proportion.

"Kral öldü," he agreed.

 **-Hareket: move**

 **-Kral öldü: The king is dead**


	2. The Second Death

The Second Death

"You are _nothing_ ," Abraham spat on the still form. " _Nothing_!"

Blood leaked slowly from the wound that punctured the count's heart. Blurry crimson eyes stared up at the full moon that glimmered tauntingly above him. He licked at the blood seeping from his parched throat. Even hundreds of years later, he was still so damned thirsty. All the blood in the world would never be suitable for him.

And this was where he was offered his second choice. He had lived a longer life than any other creature, and he had been happy.

 ** _Happy?_** The voice laughed. Through the years, that voice had become his; no longer could he hear even a whisper of what he once was. He could not even place what it had sounded like. He imagined it would sound horrible, so throaty and ignorant: he had screamed himself hoarse many times in his life, spewing that bile about God and forgiveness. How could he have ever stood the sound of it? The new voice was so suave and enlightened. He found that he liked it much better. Besides: he could not argue with it now. It had grown too strong. **_You've lived to command a kingdom, slay an empire, father fledglings, become the lord of your own castle… aren't you tired?_** ** _After all, there's nothing left to return to. Why don't you die with dignity now? You've been bested by a worthy adversary: that was what you wanted all along, wasn't it?_**

Abraham van Helsing's eyebrows lowered and his teeth were clenched in a snarl. "Why aren't you _ash_ by now?"

The count blinked stupidly. He did not have an answer for either of them.

 ** _What are you waiting for? Shut your eyes now!_** He wondered what would happen if he did. He wondered if everyone else was unfortunate enough to choose whether or not they had to let go. Surely a human whose body was so severely damaged could not possibly survive. What was this, then? Why was it that only _he_ seemed to have a choice? Every other human he had eaten had never clung to life so long. Was it a sweet relief to them? Heaven or Hell bound- it mattered not where they went. Both alike accepted their fate no matter how scared of it they were. But he was not scared.

What did his wife look like? He tried to think back as hard as he could but found that there was only an image of Mina. Is that what she had looked like? He wondered then what his wife's name had been. Had he also been a father? All he could think of was blood. It was not any blood he had been hungry for: but the kind of blood associated with agony. Whether it was his, his family's, his soldiers', his peoples', his fledglings', or the blood he drank upon the fateful day the world's most pathetic monster was created, he did not know.

He thought that this death would be even more comical than the last. It was not Death that waited over him but a man. A powerful, faithful, imperfect man. It seemed funny almost… that it took a man to kill a monster. He was not dead yet, no, but… some part of him seemed to be slipping away as time went on and he did not waste away. Why did this Abraham have the ability to slay him when the Grim Reaper had failed? Perhaps… he had been a monster in life too. When did he become one? It did not matter now.

Should he will himself to die? Something in his gut told him that it would not be so hard. He could just shut down his heart and let the darkness swirling within his heart still. He was weakened… certainly the stake driven into his chest would be enough to do it?

The voice in his head sounded tired. **_When will it ever be enough for you?_**

As the sun rose over the Carpathian mountains that day, a vampire- no longer count nor king- was dragged by his collar across dewy grass, a trail of blood leaking from the gaping hole in his chest. It was much larger now after Abraham had stabbed him so many times His head had been detached twice, his body was wrapped in silver chains, and he was staring directly into the harsh sunlight. The dawn had already passed. He felt his flesh bubbling, blistering, and smoking. His throat felt like sandpaper now. But he still did not seem to figure out how to die.

"You stupid, selfish monster," Abraham scolded weakly, though the man sounded more like he was chiding a juvenile. "Don't you know that your soul would have been set free?"

And just then, the vampire realized something. He did not have to be the monster any more. What if he were a weapon instead?

He realized he liked those painful chains.


End file.
